


Fairytale of London

by Dramione84



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Dancing, Drunkenness, Fluff, M/M, Office Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:02:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8704192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dramione84/pseuds/Dramione84
Summary: Oliver Wood has dragged his boyfriend Marcus Flint to the office Christmas party, however this is the last place on earth Marcus wants to be.  What happens when his patience finally snaps?~ Based on the Christmas song, Fairytale of New York.Beta love to Starrnobella and xxDustNight88 x Merry Christmas to my girls, I love you all loads xxxxx





	

Marcus brought his bottle of beer to his lips, taking a long pull. Over the rim of the bottle, he watched Oliver chatting animatedly with the two girls who worked in the copyroom.  His scowl deepening into a sneer, he slammed the bottle down on the table. He barged past the postal boy dressed as an elf, who was currently trying to get off with the girl from marketing dressed as Mrs Santa. Her narrow eyes were fixed on Oliver’s boss, who was currently copulating with his secretary.  

 

This was certainly shaping up to be one of the worst Christmas Eve parties Oliver had dragged Marcus to in the five years he’d worked for the firm. Oliver laughed raucously at some joke that was lost on Marcus as he grabbed Oliver’s wrist firmly, nodding towards the door.  Giggling, the girls wolf-whistled and catcalled as Oliver stumbled after his lover, trying to catch the beer that spilt from his bottle with his tongue.

“Marcus, what the fuck?” He laughed as he felt Marcus push him up against the wall of the corridor outside the function room. Misreading his cues, he tugged at his gaudy Christmas jumper.

“Ollie, no,” he huffed, shaking his head and stepping back.  “You’re drunk and I’m fucked off.”

Oliver’s face clouded over with confusion.  “What the fuck is your problem?”

“This,” he gestured into the hall where Oliver’s boss, his secretary, and Mrs. Santa were currently engaged in an argument.  He rolled his eyes as Mrs. Santa threw her drink in the face of Oliver’s boss before storming from the room.  He stepped to one side as she stalked past him, slamming into the ladies toilets.  Turning back to Oliver, he threw his arms out in a gesture of exasperation at the chaos surrounding them.

“What?” Oliver exclaimed, taking a swig of his beer as he swayed unsteadily on his feet.  

“For fuck’s sake!” yelled Marcus, his hands curling into tight fists by his side as the anger swelled in his chest.  

Oliver’s amusement at the situation quickly dissolved as his face contorted with scorn.  “What the fuck is your problem? Just try to have a little fun would you.  You’re always the same…”

Oliver began, punctuating his words with jabs of his forefinger that pointed towards Marcus, his other fingers curling around the neck of his beer bottle.

“And this is exactly what I am talking about,” yelled Marcus, his temper flaring dangerously.  “Every  _ fucking  _ year is the same; you drag me out to these ridiculous parties when I’d far rather be...”

“Far rather be  _ where _ , Marcus? Anywhere but with me?” Oliver yelled back, his cheeks flushing crimson, his nostrils flaring.  

Marcus’s jaw dropped and for a moment he was rendered speechless.  Closing his mouth, he licked his lips as they curled into a sneer.  “You know what; fuck you,” Marcus spat before turning on his heel and storming out of the pub into the night.

 

“That sounded rough,” Mrs. Santa’s voice drifted from behind him.  Oliver turned around to see her poking her head around the door to the ladies, her mascara showing the signs that she’d been crying in the bathroom before attempting to repair the damage.  

Oliver nodded, gulping as Mrs. Santa slunk catlike from the doorway towards him.  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she smiled.

“Maybe you and I should go talk it out,” she suggested with a raise of her eyebrow in what he presumed was supposed to be her version of seduction.  

Smiling awkwardly, he clasped her hands with his, unlinking them from behind his neck.  “You know I’m gay right?”He chuckled.

Mrs. Santa leaned forward, her lips grazing his ear.  “I reckon I could change that; I’m  _ that _ good,” she whispered.

Gently removing himself from her clutches, he stepped back.  “It doesn’t work like that, I’m afraid.  Besides, you have enough to deal with in there,” he told her with a smile, nodding towards the door.  “And I’m completely in love with the man out there.”

Mrs. Santa screwed up her eyes, fixing them on Oliver.  “But he’s an ass,” she remarked.

Oliver flashed her a lopsided grin.  “True, but he’s my ass,” he said with a chuckle, “and he’s got a hot ass.”

Mrs. Santa smiled, “That he has.  Go get your ass, while I go kick mine,” she winked before heading back into the function room.

 

Oliver grabbed his coat from the cloakroom before rushing out into the night, heading in the direction he presumed Marcus would have headed, assuming he’d gone home and not to a bar.  Heartbeat pounding in his chest, breathing ragged, he jogged down the street, the evening air fogging each expiration.  

Turning at the end of the street, he spotted Marcus up ahead and surged forwards, catching up to him.  His hand outstretched, he grabbed Marcus’s shoulder.

“Hey,” he called as Marcus shrugged away, not slowing his stride.

Oliver scowled before trying again.  This time Marcus spun around.

“What?” His eyes shone with fury.

Oliver chuckled nervously, carding his hand through his hair.  “I hadn’t actually thought past that bit,” he admitted, smiling impishly.

Marcus tried, damn it he tried, not to give in so easily.  He was pissed at him after all, but fuck if Oliver didn’t look cute when he was meek.

Rolling his eyes, he allowed Oliver to lace his fingers with his own, and turned into the park.  The local band was playing Galway Bay on the bandstand in the middle of the suburban green space, and couples from the retirement building across the street where slowly dancing.  It was cliched but romantic, and Marcus couldn’t help but smile.  

Catching his look out of the corner of his eye, Oliver turned to Marcus, flashing him a coy grin as they walked through the park hand in hand. Chuckling, Oliver set his gaze forwards once more before suddenly turning in front of Marcus, his hand lifting Marcus’s hand, his free hand going to Marcus’s waist.

“Ollie,” Marcus frowned, shaking his head, trying to avoid looking at Oliver, knowing he would give in if he met those gorgeously charming, brown eyes.  When finally he did meet them, he melted at the pleading look he found and allowed Oliver to lead them, dancing off to one side, where the glow from the twinkling lights that adorned the courtyard blended into the shadows.

Bending his head, he rested it in the crook between Oliver’s neck and his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin under the jacket he’d bought him last Christmas.

“I hate fighting with you, Ollie,” he murmured into his neck, his lips grazing his freckled skin as he nuzzled.

Oliver sighed.  “Me too.”

Standing straight, he looked into Oliver’s eyes.  “I never said I didn’t want to spend Christmas Eve with you.”  

Oliver sighed, looking away and Marcus moved his hands up to cup Oliver’s cheeks, rosy from the chill of the night air.  “I do want to spend Christmas Eve with you: I want to spend all my Christmas Eves with you, and only you, you doughnut,” he insisted, before pressing a kiss to Oliver’s lips.  Oliver chuckled as he returned the kiss.

Marcus broke the kiss, stepping back, his brows furrowing with confusion.

“Doughnut?” He laughed. “Where did that come from?”

Marcus’s frown melted into a smile.  “Er...I dunno,” he admitted, as Oliver slipped his hands into back pockets of Marcus’s jeans, pulling him towards him and giving his arse a squeeze.  Marcus grinned, grinding his hips into Oliver slightly as he kissed him.

“Come on,” Marcus said on a sigh, taking Oliver’s hand once more.  “Let’s go home.”

“What time is it?” Oliver asked as they left the park.

Marcus was just glancing at his watch as the bells of the church the other side of the park started peeling out.

“After midnight.” Slipping an arm around his shoulder, he smiled at Oliver.  “Merry Christmas, Ollie.”

Oliver smiled as he slipped his arm around Marcus’s waist.  “Merry Christmas, Marcus.”  


End file.
